


Keeping Up Appearances

by IHidMyFaceFromYouNoMore



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: (as in no defined gender), Awkward Meetings in The Potting Shed, Crowley’s pronouns are A Mystery and will change without notice, F/M, For the most part, Male?Aziraphale, Pre-Slash, Scathing Looks, Undefined Relationship, Unwanted Romantic Attention from an OC, Warlock is probably like. Three? At this point? It’s not that important, crowley uses she/her pronouns, he’s just generally a small child here, so buckle up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-11 09:42:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19925998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IHidMyFaceFromYouNoMore/pseuds/IHidMyFaceFromYouNoMore
Summary: Saw a prompt on tumblr(that I cannot find for the life of me) about nanny Ashtoreth getting some unwanted romantic attention from another staff member at the Dowling Residence, then Aziraphale finds out - how do they both (re)act?And this is what I've got ! Enjoy!





	Keeping Up Appearances

**Author's Note:**

> The funny and lovely WolfieJimi beta-read the hell out of this fic and I am eternally grateful - please go check her stuff out for a good time ! 
> 
> I have no idea how to link stuff so it doesn't look horrible on AO3, so here's a clunky link: archiveofourown.org/users/WolfieJimi

Crowley was well-aware of the way people treated her differently whenever she presented more feminine. She spent about a millennia before the birth of Christ going about fairly unnoticed as a woman with only some instances here and there of being courted, but it wasn’t yet Crowley’s _thing_ at that point in time(the courting, that is). He’d gone parts of the Renaissance in drag(on and off the stage), moonlighting as an actor. There was even a stint in the early 1700’s when Crowley went by Lady Crowley, in which she almost successfully managed to re-introduce herself to society as a woman( _if it hadn’t been for that blasted detective I would have gotten away with it..._ ). 

However, times had changed and society had not as of late been favorable toward Crowley’s relaxed relationship to gender. And Crowley always needed any advantages he could get in modern society, those that unfortunately could only be attained as a man. Despite Crowley’s interests in moving about the Earth as a woman, he knew that it wasn’t advantageous. Women’s rights were only a recent development in the six millennia of human history, which Crowley would have sped up if it wasn’t looked down upon by Below. _That_ one would have been hard to justify in a report. Nothing evil about furthering the civil rights movement, no matter how hard Crowley tried to come up with an excuse. Well, maybe Below did collaborate with the Suffragettes a bit, but they couldn’t take credit for all of it(some of the incitement to arson and hatchet-throwing, certainly, but none of the ideologies). 

Anyway, the point which has now been lost was that not only did Crowley occasionally have to deal with discrimination, just as every other woman on Earth, but she also had to deal with unwanted suitors. The _embarrassing_ courting rituals. The horribly inept men that unfortunately gravitated her way once in a while. Which reared its ugly personality once again as Crowley took the opportunity to live as nanny Ashtoreth.

There was this chauffeur, one of the two chauffeurs on hold at the Dowling residence, whose name was Gabe(which already told Crowley everything she needed to know to stay away), who had been eyeing her for days since he got hired that month. Crowley knew before even speaking to him that he had impure thoughts about her. As a demon, she was required to sense these types of things in humans. And to her, he reeked of bad intentions, salacity, and a horribly overused cologne, the type which probably had a crocodile or a silhouette of a naked lady on the bottle. 

It wasn’t until one day when the Dowlings were out and the other chauffeur was driving them, while Crowley looked after Warlock spinning and trying to learn to do tumbling on the plains, that Gabe approached her. He swaggered over to where she was watching Warlock from the terrace, just as the boy was switching up to trying to do headstands. Crowley was distracted and the wind was blowing in the opposite direction so she didn’t smell Gabe sneaking up on her until it was too late.

“D’you want a smoke? My treat.” he nearly stuck the packet in her face.

Crowley briefly considered accepting one and then eating it whole in front of him, just to freak him out enough to leave her alone. However, that might set him off to think that she wasn’t entirely human. And it had been the Arrangement anyway that no suspicions must be raised at any cost. And Aziraphale had been so good at it so far, playing along with this whole ‘we’re just normal humans with jobs’ charade they had in order to fulfill the Plan with Warlock. Crowley felt more than a little obligated to play along as well.

It was a guarantee that Gabe would tell on her to the other staff if she did anything off, and _that_ would be breaking the Arrangement. 

“No, _thank_ you.” it stung Crowley’s demonic senses to act polite to anyone so undeserving. 

He made an infuriatingly sheepish laugh as he put the packet away. “Not your scene, I see, alright, I’ll keep that in mind. Not a smoker, very sensible of you. Anything else I need to know about you, Miss Ashtoreth?”

Crowley was more annoyed than anything else that the man was cutting into her alone-time now that Warlock wanted to be playing on his own for a little while. How could she make it known that she wasn’t interested in anyone’s company without using her powers? What did Crowley know that women do to deter unwanted men?

“I should warn you that I am not interested.” She never turned to even look at him.

“Aw, it’s not like that, Miss!” Gabe laughed that pathetic laugh again, “I only wanted to see if we could be _friends_.” he said this as Crowley nearly shuddered with disgust from the lechery she was picking up from him, which spiked as he put a hand on her shoulder to rub circles into her jacket.

Crowley took a half-step to the side. He was unrelenting. “What, you got a beau or something?”

“N — Yes. I have a … _partner_.” Crowley didn’t even lie, only there was no human word to describe _that_ relation. 

“Oh, but there was some hesitation there, eh? Who’s he? I can guarantee you, you could be better off with me. I’m an honest man, trust me.” 

Now it was Crowley’s time to nearly laugh at the concept, although she stifled it in the last moment. “I said, _no thank you_.” She instead resorted to emphasizing each syllable to make her point clearer.

“What, you don’t think I can take him on if he were to know about you being in the company of another man? I’m a blackbelt. And I’m a licensed hunter. In fact, I’m going out grouse-hunting this weekend and if you would accompany me —“ 

Gabe was cut off by a very erratic shower of rain coming from the blue sky. 

“Warlock, dear! We must run back inside, wouldn’t want you to catch a cold,” Crowley switched back to her nanny-voice and jogged to the boy, who was too distracted with catching raindrops in his mouth to protest at being lifted into his nanny’s arms and carried inside. Gabe only became more flustered at the sudden change of weather when the rain abruptly cut off once Ashtoreth had slammed the garden door shut behind her. 

\- - -

At a separate occasion, Warlock was having a day of alone-indoor-time, drawing airplanes and dogs, and trying to figure out what happens if you take every color from the crayon box and mix them. So nanny Ashtoreth was left in a room nearby, not that she needed to be terribly close to know if Warlock was in trouble; she’d only have to taste the air or listen for any screaming, as regular humans do to protect their young. 

She was incredibly bored, but at least not in a bad mood, sitting about with a cup of tea(bit too early for wine) and her phone, alone in the servants’ hall. But that stopped once Gabe decided to “pop in”, as he phrased it. He had a tin of biscuits with him, which he opened while giving a half-assed excuse for the events the other day. 

“I am sorry if I came on too strong, I really am,” He lied, “It’s just that I really do want to get to know you. You seem like a real interesting lady, Miss Ashtoreth. Won’t you have a biscuit, a little peace-offering?” Gabe laughed that laugh again. 

“Sorry,” Crowley now lied, “I’m allergic.” And she got up, striding straight toward the living room with Warlock in it. _At least he doesn’t have the balls to follow me when I’m tending to the child._

She could sense him hovering near the door, but he apparently stomped off before he could change his mind about not disturbing them. Warlock was so lost in the art-fever he barely noticed nanny, who studied his works to take her mind off things. The airplanes, she thought, were particularly well-formed.

\- - -

On a later day, the sun had decided to dry the earth and warm every stone, causing an unusually sultry day for an English summer. Warlock had therefore been playing in the garden, mostly pretending to be an airplane, then a choo-choo train, before having lunch and conking out after such exertions. 

He was napping soundly in his room upstairs, but Crowley chose to spend this time back in the garden on one of the usually ornamental sun-beds, napping as well. With having a full time job for the first time in about 60 years(sometime in the 1950’s, Crowley was so bored he took on a job as a cashier in a bakery. The uniform code required him to wear red dungarees. He quit after a week), Crowley had found that there was much less time for sleeping when you only have about 50 uninterrupted hours off on the weekend. She therefore indulged while she could, and today was perfect for it, as the Dowlings were out again at a ribbon-cutting ceremony for the naming of a bald eagle at the zoo, or whatever it was that they did on official business. 

Crowley unfortunately woke as her senses were telling her to attack, when something was tampering with her sunglasses. Upon opening her eyes, Gabe was trying to pry them off her, failing to do so discreetly. On reflex, Crowley’s gloved hand nearly morphed into a claw as she batted him away and stood up fast, readjusting her cover. 

Gabe put his hands up in joking surrender, “Sorry, sorry, I wasn’t trying anything, I swear! Honest to _God._ ”

Crowley wanted to groan. “ _What_ do you think you are _doing_?”

“I only wanted to see your eyes - you always got them all covered up, I wanted to know if they’re as beautiful as I expected, and you were sleeping so peacefully, so gracefully. So can I see? Just a glimpse?”

As much as Crowley wanted to roar insult after insult at him, her need to comply with the Arrangement overpowered her. “ _No._ ” She said firmly.

“C’mon, what’re you hiding — let me in on your secrets, Miss Ashtoreth,” Gabe reached for her cheek this time, nearly succeeding before she turned to walk toward the garden. 

He unfortunately followed. “C’mon! I just want to get to know you, let me at least b—“ but he tripped over his suddenly untied shoelaces, and as Gabe was busy having his face to the ground, Crowley disappeared instantly to a secluded area.

The potting shed usually had windows, but not for the next thirty minutes or however long it would take Gabe to give up looking. Crowley was muttering all the insults she wished she could say to him, and later, as she was coming down from her adrenaline high, she resorted to muttering insults to the sprouts that surrounded her. She was interrupted by a gentle knock on the door. Although Crowley’s human-like senses wanted her to fear that it was him again, her demon-like senses immediately knew who was on the other side. 

She hesitated opening before asking a question: “Is he gone?”

“Yes, dear, it seems he suddenly got a call from the Dowlings.” Aziraphale replied. “May I come in? Or would you prefer to be left alone?” 

Crowley immediately opened, ushering the angel inside. Aziraphale went in quick, dropping his disguise for the time being. “What h—“

“Nothing. Nothing of your concern, angel.” Crowley did not particularly want to get Aziraphale involved, but she had opened the door to him for one reason or the other. “Just ridiculous human trouble, is all. It’s not affecting you, it’s not affecting the Plan or the Arrangement.”

Aziraphale was of course suspicious. He hadn’t known Crowley for six thousand years to not know when Crowley was lying. “He was doing more than just regularly bothering you, though — wasn’t he?”

Crowley sighed dramatically with her whole body. “It doesn’t matter, I _am_ handling it!” She hissed.

Aziraphale shut up, but his eyes told a story of concern. 

Crowley sighed again. “Don’t look at me all like that, angel. I swear.”

“Oh, you swear?”

“Yeah, I swear.”

“On whom?”

Crowley sputtered. “You know _who!_ Or take your pick, just leave it be.”

Aziraphale frowned for a good reason. “You want me to come in, then you want me gone — what is it, Crowley?”

She seethed with frustrations but they didn’t bubble over. “I. Don’t know.”

Aziraphale nodded with genuine understanding and closed the door behind himself. 

Crowley felt the plants judging her. _Serves me right for not knowing how to deal with this shit._

\- - -

The second Crowley was on her next break the day after, she beelined for the garden. Brother Francis was pretending to pick weeds from around the heirloom lettuce-heads, clearly looking as if he had no clue what he was doing, occasionally picking off the lettuce-leaves as well as the weeds. Crowley didn’t slow down her power-walk as she went past him, hissing loudly: “Shed. _Now._ ”

Brother Francis’ head bobbed up to watch the nanny aggressively advance toward the potting shed. _Oh, boy._

As Crowley magicked a tarp over the windows to seem less suspicious than last time, Aziraphale entered with his disguise off already. Crowley turned to him in silence.

“Anything the matter, dear?”

“Uh, yes, angel, a bit! You _cheated!_ ”

Aziraphale frowned. “No, I most certainly did not. I am incapable of a wandering eye —”

Crowley did another full-body sigh. “Not — like _that!_ You know what you _did!_ ”

Aziraphale would have chuckled if he hadn’t been so confused by Crowley’s words. “Fill me in?”

Crowley rolled her eyes behind her glasses. “That chauffeur got fired. Overheard the maids chatting about how he’d been driving with Mr. Dowling in the front seat this morning, and when he opened the glovebox, a baggie fell out. Then his trunk was searched, and there were illegal weapons found. Sacked immediately. Although no police report filed, so not devastating revenge.”

Aziraphale had a genuinely confused look about him. “A _baggie_?”

“Yeah, a baggie. Well done, you.”

“... What’s a baggie?”

The frustration emanating from Crowley caused the nearby petunias to wilt in real time. “Don’t play stupid! You planted that weed there, you —” More sprouts looked to be catching fire now, “You magicked those things into the car and ensured that the glovebox would fall open, didn’t you?”

Aziraphale averted his eyes to the poor plants, trying to discreetly counteract their destruction without Crowley noticing. 

She was practically huffing now, every tiny sprout was turning into a wick for a tiny flame. “Sure, I did consider turning him into soap-suds or have there magically be a better job offer for him elsewhere, but you can’t just break the Agreement over something like this! I did everything to dance around not breaking the Agreement, and then you go and cock it up!”

“I really didn’t, Crowley. I — I don’t know, he must’ve had those items with him to begin with.”

“How can I be sure of that, now?”

“I swear, dear.”

Crowley stopped, silent until Aziraphale looked her in the eye again, then removed her sunglasses. The cactus in the corner was green with envy at the prickly quality of her eyes. “On _whomst_?”

“You know who I swear on. Wouldn’t lie to you. And I certainly wouldn’t jeopardize the Arrangement.” Aziraphale took a tentative step forward. “You must admit, it seemed like him. Sketchy character. Even I could sense the lechery off him. And he did smell quite strongly of marijuana, Crowley.”

Crowley stepped down from her attack-mode. “...I guess I didn’t notice because he stunk for miles of bad cologne.” She finally noticed the plants, burnt to a crisp, which she almost felt remorse for.

Aziraphale absentmindedly nudged at a pot of scorched soil to pass the awkward silence. “‘Spose I better get back to the, uh, — well, they all start to look the same after a while.” He chuckled that chuckle Crowley was used to hearing during better times. 

“I think my break’s over in a minute, too, I ought to —” She waved around a bit to convey her meaning, though she kept still to let Aziraphale go first so as to not have them be seen leaving together.

He turned the knob and opened, but hesitated right before stepping out. Aziraphale smiled knowingly at Crowley. He was pondering the satisfaction that it was to think that Crowley really thought he’d done all that for her.

Meanwhile, Crowley was staring at him, then watching him leave in disguise before putting on her sunglasses. She cleared her throat. She decided to revive the plants before exiting, giving herself some time to think.

-

-

-

Gabe found that after his unjust sacking, little miraculous inconveniences started happening everywhere for him; every time he reached for the HP Sauce to put on his Gregg's sausage roll in the morning, there was just about not enough to squirt out, even though he had bought three new bottles in a week. 

He found that his socks started to slip off into his boots no matter what he was doing, no matter how many new socks with reinforced elastic bands he bought. 

And he’d get a cold every time he was about to go out with mates at the pub or for the big game, just bad enough that he’d have to stay at home, but which managed to clear up the next morning, all to his eternal frustration. 

He was being punished, he thought. Only he was wrong in thinking it was by God’s hand. It was more like by an agent of God. But Gabe would be none the wiser for the rest of his days.


End file.
